


paint me pretty

by zhuzhting



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 19:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14879571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhuzhting/pseuds/zhuzhting
Summary: narcissus tells of a man that fell in love with himselfzhengting thinks his love will be the end of him





	paint me pretty

Chengcheng watches as Zhengting paints, colors on a canvas. Stroke after stroke, each one forming a picture of a face that was awfully familiar. “Have you heard the story of Narcissus?” He asks.

Zhengting hums, barely concentrating on his words and attention wholly taken by the work he was doing. “I can’t say it doesn’t ring a bell, but I’m not quite sure with the specifics.”

“Well, he fell in love with the image of himself reflected on a lake and he lost the will to live.” Chengcheng explains, fixated on Zhengting’s hands. “He died because he loved himself too much.”

“How sad.” Zhengting says as he steps back to survey his work. “Why should I know him?”

“No reason,” Chengcheng replies. There, on the canvas, Zhengting stared back at him. “No reason at all.”

\---                                                                         

Zhengting catches a glimpse of him on the train. One second he’s in the car, brown hair and downcast eyes, and the next, the train is moving fast, way too fast, and he is nothing but a blur.

Zhengting shakes it off as his imagination.

His next portrait is a man with hair that was the color of the earth and whose eyes are sad.

Chengcheng’s eyes furrow in worry, but he holds his tongue and Zhengting paints as if he was possessed.

\---

The next time, he makes sure he’s in the train.

He stands there, eyes on the ground and hands in his pockets. Zhengting audibly gasps and the other looks up.

There’s a moment where they just stare at each other, and Zhengting would think he was staring at the mirror if not for the hair.

“What the fuck.” He says, finally, and the other just nods.

“Yeah.” He says, blinking, and Zhengting isn’t sure what to feel about how the voice that responds sounds eerily like his own. “What the fuck.”

\---

His name is Jung Jung and he is entirely too similar to Zhengting for him not to be a clone.

They drink their coffee the same way (black, with two sugars), sleep the same way (on their sides), and even eat the same things.

Except, he isn’t actually a carbon copy of Zhengting. He’s a lot quieter and Zhengting knows that he’s sad even when he says he’s not, because he knows what to look for.

Zhengting finds out that he dances and he paints fluid figures with carefully graceful strokes for an entire month. Jung Jung moves like water, like the waves of the tide kissing the shores, calming and rhythmic, and sometimes strong and wild, washing everything away.

And it’s weird because Zhengting sees himself and he can’t help but feel his interest turn into something more, complicated and twisted.

So he paints his feelings and his canvases are covered with hues of blue deeper than any ocean.

“You’re beautiful.” Jung Jung tells him one day, while he’s sitting in his studio. He’s covered in paint, and it’s smudged on his face and in his dark hair.

Zhengting smiles as he grabs Jung Jung around the waist, rubbing paint into his collar bones, and he laughs.

\---

“This is weird.” Chengcheng says. He had walked into Zhengting’s studio with food, always one to make sure Zhengting ate, only to find him already eating. With himself. “Please tell me you know that this is weird.”

Jung Jung tilts his head to one side and says so very softly. “Hello.”

Chengcheng decidedly does not try and question it, and life goes on.

\---

His other friends react exactly how Zhengting expects them to.

“That’s kinda hot.” Xukun says as he eyes the two of them with barely concealed lust. “it’s like twins, but you know, not incest.”

Ziyi shakes his head, correcting Xukun. “It _is_ like incest,” he says. “It’s incest, but with yourself.”

Zhengting doesn’t think he’s seen himself turn this red, but Jung Jung ducks down, his ears flaming. “Stop that.” He says.

“Only you would manage to fall in love with yourself.” Xukun snorts and Zhengting thinks that his face might be as red as Jung Jung’s.

“Just let me watch.” Yanjun says and Zhangjing nods from next to him. “I just want to watch.”

\---

“This is weird.” Zhengting says, and Jung Jung’s hands are on his hips and Zhengting is staring at his own face that’s inches away.

Jung Jung nods. “Super weird.” But he leans in anyways, and Zhengting meets him halfway.

\---

The thing with Jung Jung was that he danced like the world was ending, and Zhengting was too slow to realize that the reason was because his world _was_ ending.

“I’m dying.” Jung Jung tells him and Zhengting sees him lying in a hospital and he’s pale, so pale that Zhengting isn’t even sure they even look alike anymore.

And Zhengting cries but he isn’t sure who he’s crying for. “How do I live without you?”

Jung Jung smiles. “I’m sure you’ll survive.” He says. “You’ve survived most of your life without me.”

Zhengting thinks about all the paintings he had, his own face staring from the canvases in his studio and he shakes his head. “No I didn’t.”

\---

Having yourself die before you is the worse than anything Zhengting could ever imagine. Zhengting doesn’t think he’d survive but he does and it’s even worse.

Slowly, he feels himself wither away and none of his friends can convince him to do anything other than mourn.

So he leaves.

\---

“Narcissus is such a pretty flower don’t you think?”

Chengcheng smiles sadly and he thinks of his friends. Both who are gone, not long after each other. He hopes they are together, or maybe he hopes they never meet again in their next lives. It was a freak accident of the universe, he thinks.

“It is.” He says, hand holding the petals of the flower. “It’s the most beautiful flower I’ve ever seen.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably one of the worst things i have ever written ugweskbjd
> 
> i'm sorry if it's a messy i really tried i swear
> 
> my [twitter](https://twitter.com/zhuzhting)


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